


Nosy is as Nosy Does

by archea2



Series: The Reason for the Unreason [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade and Sherlock have a little disagreement over noses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nosy is as Nosy Does

 

 

 

 

"Oh, is this a belated version of Spring cleaning?"

Sherlock closed the office door behind him with a perfunctory glance at the floor. He stooped to pick up the nearest piece of evidence, a garish-looking magazine, holding it up between thumb and finger.

"Hmm. Either you've undergone a conversion of the heart, Lestrade, or my database needs upgrading.  _Married nymphet hookers_ , really?" His tone was light, but Lestrade's ear quickened to the note of resentment. And lookit that, he added for himself as Sherlock wheeled to face him. First time I've ever seen a scarf knot _pout_  at me.

"Don't be daft." He snatched up the magazine and flung it on the increasingly shapeless pile on his desk. "Some people around have taken to using the Property Room as a not-so-private stash, and it's no use issuing a caution. Or two, or twenty. Might as well be pissing into a violin, as _Mémé_ Lestrade used to say." Sherlock's outraged gasp went unheeded. "So I'm taking some strong action. Here, make yourself useful and check these books, they need to be sorted. Charities, libraries, the bin – your call. And keep your gloves on, kid, some of them have gone undercover with the dust."

"Your consultant,  _dear_ , not your housekeeper." Sherlock drew himself up, five feet eight of scorching dismissal - then spotted a wrinkled leather binding among the pile and underwent instant deflation. The next fifteen minutes were spent in quasi domestic peace, or so it felt to Lestrade as he went through the junk, muttering about cleanliness and godliness and wait a sec, was that his name on the sodding Ken doll, while Sherlock, sitting on the floor, was lost in reading.

"Was one of your predecessors into physiognomy?" he asked after a while.

"Eh?" Lestrade was staring wistfully at a half empty pack of Silk Cuts. He girded his lungs and tossed it into the bin.

"Physiognomy, the science of facial interpretation." Sherlock skimmed over a few pages and began to read aloud. " _When the nose is long and of a clear color, the person is gifted with powers of the mind and a capacity to enjoy that power_. Hmm. That's a tautology – who wouldn't enjoy having a powerful mind if they could? Apart from Anderson, who'd probably mistake it for a breakfast cereal gift.  _When it is very long, he is shameless. If it is small and slightly rounded, he is religious-minded and kindhearted_?"

Lestrade found himself squinting down his nose. "Oh, bosh. Nosy is as nosy does - you'd be just the same busybody with a smaller conk."

"And they're pointers to..." Sherlock, ever the serial infuriater, bent closer to the page. "...the specimen's degree of sexual vigour. Lestrade, d'you mind if I borrow this for a while?"

"Rubbish," Lestrade said with accrued warmth, rubbing his nose absently. "Can't believe you of all people would go for that, that -  glut of twaddle."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. It has to be put into context, that's all. Here's the entry on chins and mouths...  _Thin lips are indicative of a repressed nature, one that is either prone to meanness of heart or misanthropic defiance._  Oooh, this one's definitely intriguing. A _thin-lipped man will often show excessive bashfulness, sensual timidity, reduced empathy with_  —"

The book took a belly-flop to the floor as Lestrade gave it a nice good whack sideways with his palm. He followed with a firm swoop on Sherlock's elbows, grabbing and hauling him up onto his knees, before he sealed his lips to the soft, infuriating mouth.

It gasped back under the touch, and he pressed his advantage recklessly, adding warmth and a slick show of tongue, until Sherlock was wheezing for breath and clutching at his cheeks simultaneously.

Lestrade pushed him off, retrieved the book, tossed it into the large bin bag yawning at their feet and pinned the bag down with a glare.

A cautious throat-rasping at his side pulled him down from his revengeful high. "Ah. Yes. The author may have been... overly deterministic in his assumptions."

"Right you are. With the caption, now?"

Sherlock sighed. "You, Detective Inspector Lestrade, are a mean kisser. Though scientific hypotheses should always, hmm. Be double-tested for safety."

"Really?" Just to make sure, Lestrade brushed the knot scarf with his finger, ever so gently. Sherlock shivered.

"Then you'd better get to work double-quick, trouble. The faster we're done here, the faster I can drive us home to check that nosey malarkey. Hmm?"

There was no answer, but a dark head nodded once above a cloud of dust. Lestrade smiled and, turning to his desk, lifted the pile of junk into his arms. He stopped at the door.

"In context," he grinned back, and flicked the Ken doll's little pink nose for good measure.

 


End file.
